The Obelisk Gate, book two in the Broken Earth trilogy by NK Jemisin, built on everything I loved in book one and brought even more depth, complexity and heart-wrecking authenticity to each character. As I was thinking about how to describe the dominant themes in book two, I thought most of Beloved, by Toni Morrison, for how fearlessly both NKJ and Morrison explore the layered traumas of child loss and enslavement. I also kept thinking back to the second installment in Tracy Deonn's Legendborn Cycle, Bloodmarked, for how both NKJ and Deonn use fantasy to literally and explicitly call out colonization and the inter-generational trauma of enslaved peoples. NKJ has been very straightforward in her thoughts on the use of subtler forms of allegory to discuss racism in fantasy (as in, subtle doesn't work). In that vein, The Obelisk Gate leaves nothing to misinterpretation - this is a story about slavery.

At the start of The Obelisk Gate, our main character Essun has lost too many children, has sacrificed too much of herself, and has been hunted by too many of those she once loved, and her grief is all consuming. The tender moments between her and Alabaster destroyed me. And we finally get NESSUN in book two, and it's just as much of a gut punch as we expected. She gives up so much for survival - her "daughterhood," her childhood, her ideas of familial love. Through Nessun in particular, NKJ is constantly pushing us to examine our sympathies. Characters like Jija and Schaffa are head-spinning as we try to sort out good and evil in a world literally covered in gray ash.

And sweet, terrifying Hoa. I love him. I distrust him. I love him. I don't know.

Highly recommend this series and looking forward to book three!

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon is an epic stand-alone fantasy with multiple POVs that cross East and West (and back again). A stunning commentary on globalism, religious fanaticism and even reproductive agency, it is also a beautiful love story (of the enemies-to-lovers variety 👏).

And the mythological inspiration! Shannon has shared that she models the country of Seiiki on Edo Japan and was interested in weaving together a Western legend (Saint George) with an Eastern one (Hohodemi). Knowing this brings so much additional depth to her decidedly feminist retelling and renders the cultural and religious contrasts between East and West even more palpable for the reader.

There is a lot that I loved in this - the prose, the twists, the sapphic romance, the thematic heft. But I was also left wanting more. An 800+-page stand-alone, it somehow still felt both too short and too long. Shannon weaves together so many seemingly disparate quests, and at times, I felt like this emphasis on plotting required a sharp sacrifice in characterization. Tane, for example, is central to this story, and yet we somehow know so little about her backstory and her relationship with Susa. I also wanted more dragon/rider bonding and just generally more time with side characters so I could feel invested in their stories. I also feel like there were some loose plot threads - particularly in Niclays Roos' storyline - and I was confused by a few of the oddly executed plot jumps (Roos and Laya are in the Dreadmount, and then they are... not?). This felt like a trilogy packed into a single door-stopping installment, and I would have read the HECK out of a full series just to have more time with these characters.

This is a great book, and I do feel like reading it in its weighty paperback unconsciously influenced my frustrations with structure (I could barely hold it open!). Recommended for (patient) fantasy readers! 

 Written for a YA audience, Johnson's reflections are striking in their vulnerability and transparency - they insist on honesty with themselves and with you, the reader, in an effort to create space for a generation of young LGBTQIAP+ people learning to own and protect their identities in an oppressive and often violent world. Broken into short essays, interspersed with letters and reflections written to, for and from family members, Johnson's stories are as much for themselves as they are for others, a chance to reconcile their Black and queer identities and communities. By the conclusion, it is clear that they see these identities as inextricably linked, essential parts of their whole, existing without conflict when they can exist authentically (outside the oppressive structures of a white cultural and political monolith).

I came away from this read in awe of the gift Johnson is giving young readers, the trust and respect afforded them. That this is one of the most banned books in the United States underscores exactly how rare this level of trust and respect is given young people, particularly young people who identify as LGBTQIAP+. Johnson so clearly navigated their own life without a roadmap and is committed to ensuring others like them don't feel similarly confused and alone.

It's important to note that this DOES entail on-page trauma. I do NOT think this limits its accessibility or appropriateness for young adult readers. I caution ANY reader to be sensitive to content warnings and give themselves grace in what they choose to read. It's appalling, though, that this book has been so frequently banned on these grounds, as though teens are incapable of reading about things they are *already experiencing.*

I would recommend this to any reader, but feel it's particularly powerful for those who work with young people (or are parents to teens). 

We've got a (maybe?) post-apocalyptic world with three alternating POVs, a nonlinear timeline, a mysterious (and potentially unreliable?) narrator speaking to us in the second person and a few of the most richly developed characters I've encountered in fantasy. The writing style is hard to define - each POV is starkly individual, at times alarmingly casual and at other times poetic and at still others a stream of consciousness. 

There really is no other book (I know of) that serves as a useful/direct comparison, but I do believe readers who love the Locked Tomb series (particularly for Muir's use of an unreliable narrator/second person POV in Harrow) and Legendborn (for Deonn's skillful use of fantasy to create a rich allegory for slavery and colonialism) will enjoy this.

And THE TWISTS. They were perfectly executed. Jemisin weaves clues in so subtly that you don't notice them for what they are until you've reached your first big reveal. I love an author who can pull off a well-deserved twist that all at once feels both obvious and unbelievable because they've laid the foundation so well. It's a pet peeve of mine when fantasy authors deliver a plot "twist" simply by omitting crucial information for the reader (looking at you SJM-House-of-Earth-and-Blood-and-House-of-Sky-and-Breath), and this, thankfully, is not that. 

Highly recommend!

I was so fortunate to receive an e-ARC of Forever Your Rogue, by Erin Langston. Reading it, I felt like I did when I first read Circe, by Madeline Miller, like someone had reached into my heart and my head and untangled some essential truth of motherhood I couldn't fully understand, smoothing it out so I could finally see it plainly. It might seem a stretch to compare Cora to mythological witch-goddess Circe, but these are mothers holding up the sky for their children - mothers we know intrinsically from the very start.

And while this is absolutely a swoony, fake engagement to best-friend's-brother with all the reformed-rake-meets-widow hijinks you could ever wish for in a regency romance, it is also a gripping story of a mother's fight for her family and for herself. Langston's author's note details the very real historical context for the premise of Cora's story - that she could lose her children to a patently cruel legal standard that gave only her (deceased) husband the right to assign their guardianship. To know that most of the women who fought this law in the 19th century lost (losing rights to their own children), makes the perfect happily-ever-after in Cora's story feel like even more of a triumph.

And lest you think we're here for the laughs and heart-wreckage alone, PREPARE YOURSELF FOR CHAPTER FIFTEEN. And about five additional chapters after that. Holy. If you ascended to a new plane when Eros pulls out a timer in Electric Idol, THIS is your hissy rono (IYKYK).

I loved this and can't wait to reread it - highly recommend.

I read a lot of romance, and a lot of historical romance in particular these days, and after a while, a lot of the stories blend together. There are so many lords and rakes and inns-with-only-one-bed, and while I never tire of these formulas, there are a few that stand out because I KNOW I won't ever forget them, that their characters won't ever lose shape in my mind.

Convergence of Desire, by Felicity Niven, is one of those stories. What set this apart for me is our heroine. Harry (Harriet) is a complex, neurodivergent genius hungry with ambition. Our rake (turned reformed rake) and hero, Thomas, agrees to her absurdly confident proposal of marriage so that she may have the time and personal comfort to pursue her mathematical dreams - and so that he can put her dowry toward saving his estate from financial ruin. Their meet-cute is as hilarious as it is affectionate, and their marriage of convenience is built on a foundation of mutual respect and true agency.

And the romance is exceptionally tender. This is the slowest of slow burns in the BEST way. The development of intimacy is so tentative and organic, so messy and painfully REAL that you find yourself racing through a book whose timeline spans a YEAR (this is no insta-love!) just to see them finally ignite. He READS TO HER. And she teaches him the calculus. And he confronts his childhood trauma. And she regains her health and discovers new independence. And he gives her *lessons*. And they pine for each other. And I wept.

My only complaint was that it ended. If you're a lover of historical romance, I highly recommend this one. I do recommend checking content warnings, as there are a few heavier themes and at least one on-page violent encounter. 

Thank you to Del Rey Books for an e-arc of Nocturne, by Alyssa Wees! I devoured this. I knew to expect dark fantasy with strong thematic elements drawn from fairy tale (Beauty and the Beast) and mythology (Hades and Persephone). I had not expected suspense, mystery and poetic horror. Reading this felt like always being in that liminal space between wakefulness and sleep, never quite sure what's real and what's a dream, prodding yourself to move or speak while always feeling pulled back into your own subconscious. Wees's writing is atmospheric, reflecting the 1930s Chicago winter, and shifts fluidly between the macabre and the transcendent. The turn of phrase that still feels most representative of her prose is her description of Grace's approach to the ballroom to see The Master - she describes the light shining beneath the door as a "slit throat" merely two lines before she describes Grace's heart as "clear water, like an ocean at rest."

This is a book for lovers of classic fairy tales, for those who enjoy the enchantment and the constant feeling of not-quite-right, who enjoy a cast of imperfect characters and anti-heroes, who know that true fairy tales are less a battle between good and evil and more a battle between being remembered or being forgotten, who know the ending is rarely happily after.

And the ENDING of this book. It is perfect and wholly unexpected and so thrilling. I could see it as though I were watching it on the stage, and the moment everything turns, I wanted to scream (with delight).

Know that this is not a romance, though there is romance. This is dark fantasy with touches of horror. If the very first puppet bow was your favorite moment in Thistlefoot, if you wondered about the fate of Luc in Addie LaRue, if you have ever felt, like Grace, the pull of music into another world, then I highly recommend Nocturne.